


CLAMPKink Fills

by juniperberry



Category: Gakuen Tokkei DUKLYON | Duklyon: Clamp School Defenders, X -エックス- | X/1999, xxxHoLic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shiritsu Horitsuba Gakuen, Crack Treated Seriously, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Hate Sex, Kink Meme, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 20:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14221035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperberry/pseuds/juniperberry
Summary: A collection of fills I wrote for the CLAMPkink meme, lo many years ago. Some of them are still sorta okay, so here they are.





	1. Horitsuba, Yuuko/Kurogane, mildly dubious

The things he did to get some fucking peace in this place.

The wood of the chairwoman's desk was a rosy hardwood, heavy and well-made, cool against his back but rapidly warming up. Yuuko was straddling him, her skirt pushed up and her legs smooth and vulnerable. Her jacket had been tossed somewhere off to the side. If he squinted--and perhaps if he were also exceedingly drunk--he might be able to imagine her as uncertain and shy. She was giving him a shy look from underneath heavy black lashes. The wide, toothy smirk rather ruined the effect.

"So, Kuro-tan," she cooed, "a midday romp in exchange for...?"

He glared at her. She liked to draw things out, liked to poke at things until he lost his cool.

He hated losing his cool. The only one on the staff that pissed him off more than her was that chemistry teacher.

"Yes," he grit out. She leaned over him and jerked her hips, and he almost sort of really hated her for that, too, the way his own hips rose up and met her with little to no encouragement from him. "A quick lay, and I get a day where nothing crazy happens, courtesy of you or you encouraging anyone to be crazy."

She purred as she undid his shirt. "Fair enough," she said. "A few ground rules, then?"

He eyed her warily. "...Like what?"

Yuuko's eyes narrowed to slits and her smile widened, a smirk from ear to ear. "No touching," she said. "Grab the desk, or fist your hands, but no touching yourself or me." She leaned over him, and a long tendril of her hair fell over her shoulder. It tickled his chest. "That way you can tell Fai-san that I had my wicked way with you."

He twitched, and pretended he didn't jerk up against her. "It's none of his business," he muttered. Yuuko tutted as she pushed his shirt back, and reached up to undo the zipper at her waist.

"Nothing wrong with being bisexual, Kuro-pa," she said. "Look at Watanuki, Doumeki-kun, and Himawari-chan." She shimmied, and her skirt rode up another few inches. "Well, not Himawari-chan, perhaps. But Watanuki is sleeping with the both of them--"

"Could we not discuss the sex lives of our underage students?" Kurogane asked through gritted teeth.

"Of course not," Yuuko said. "We were talking about you, and the chemistry teacher." She unbuckled his belt and opened his slacks with brisk efficiency. "So, how do you think it would feel, if you were bent over my desk and Fai-san was doing naughty things to you." She pulled out his cock and situated herself, her eyes closing for half a moment. Kurogane gritted his teeth and jerked up, his body too warm, and unthinkingly he grabbed her hips.

"Bad boy," Yuuko purred, and snatched at his wrists. She pushed his arms down against the hard wood of the desk, and rolled her hips. He bucked and bit a moan back behind his teeth.

"Naughty, naughty," Yuuko whispered. Her hair tickled his chest, and her breasts brushed against him, heavy even through her blouse and bra. "I'll be sure to let Fai-san know he should spank you."

Kurogane bucked again, and her laugh rolled over him in husky, breathless waves.

The things he did just to get a little fucking _peace._


	2. Karen/Aoki, UST followed by guilty sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Didn't quite hit all the points of the prompt, but....

Karen had felt it, bubbling between the two of them for the past several months. She did her best to keep her distance; Aoki-san was a dear friend, and devoted to his wife and child. He was everything she would ever want; everything she couldn't have. And that was all right.

That was before the city fell to pieces around them, before Aoki-san's family was crushed by buildings collapsing like frail constructs, before the final confrontation rose before them like an inescapable tsunami.

Even in the midst of grief, Aoki-san pulled at her, and she at him. Shimako-san was dead, but it was fresh enough to feel like adultery. Karen wasn't certain what had tripped the fuse between them, but it had been lit, and she could feel it burning, burning, burning.

The concrete wall against her back was cold, but Aoki-san was hot enough to make up for it, pressed up against her. Her skirt was rucked up around her waist, her underwear gone; Aoki-san's belt jingled faintly with every thrust. Their mouths met, her fingers clutching his shoulders and bunching the fabric of his jacket; they moved together, his hands moving with broad strokes along her sides, over her breasts and cradling her hips.

Karen wanted to keep her eyes open; wanted to watch him. Tomorrow it all might end, it all might fall to pieces, and she would never have this again. But she kept her eyes closed, concentrated instead on wrapping her legs around his waist, pushing herself back against the wall for support, feeling him moving inside her over and over.

If she concentrated hard enough, she could forget the shamed look in his eyes and the brief taste of tears in his mouth.


	3. Duklyon, office sex

It had been a nightmarish two weeks.

It was long past time for all good corporate employees to be snug in their beds, but Kentarou was a closet workaholic, and Takeshi could match him hour for neurotic hour. Secretaries were the backbone of the corporation, no matter what anyone said.

Didn't mean he liked being a secretary, though.

"Should ask for a promotion," he grunted. The wood of Kentarou's desk was smooth and polished to a high gloss. Takeshi almost expected his breath to fog it up like glass. Kentarou laughed against his ear.

"Bad form, don't you think?" he panted, and gave another slow thrust. Takeshi arched into it, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth smooth desk. He crumpled a stray paper in one hand. God, the way Kentarou could do this to him....

"Don't care," Takeshi mumbled, and sucked in a hard breath when Kentarou sped up his thrusts, pushing Takeshi harder against the edge of the desk.

"Mou, Takepon," Kentarou half-moaned. "It woul--wouldn't look--proper--huh?" He leaned forward, one hand tight on Takeshi's hip, and he braced himself on the desk with the other. His thrusts slowed a little, and Takeshi whimpered.

"D-don't care," Takeshi panted. He could feel his legs trembling, his knees buckling, the grip Kentarou had on him, the burn of a cock splitting him open and driving him crazy. "Oh god, I d-don't care...."

Kentarou laughed at him, a breathy chuckle. He mouthed the back of Takeshi's neck, bit the skin exposed by his mussed dress shirt and bent head. "You will," he said, and if they hadn't been in the middle of sex, he might have managed a purr in his voice. Instead there was a hitch, a guttural sigh, and he bit Takeshi again, gently, where it wouldn't show.

"A-ah," Takeshi moaned. Kentarou sucked at the skin between his teeth and shifted his hips, rolling them in slow arcs. Takeshi stuttered and moaned and the paper gripped in his hand crinkled.

"It's been weeks," Kentarou said against his neck. "I've thought about--this for weeks, Takepon. Too many--stupid long meetings, when--I just wanted you in my lap..."

"Mrphle," Takeshi said intelligently back. Kentarou chuckled again.

"Too many Duklyon crises," Kentarou went on, and punctuated it with a swift thrust that made Takeshi moan. "Too--many--people, when all I wanted was--to lay you out on the desk--and feed you lunch and--eat mine off your stomach...."

"S-sh-shut up," Takeshi groaned, and bucked back into Kentarou as best he could, which wasn't very. Stupid glossy polished desk and his stupid silken dress shirt and his stupid weak knees and oh--

"I want to remember--this," Kentarou panted. "The next--stupid long meeting--I wanna think--about bending you--over my desk--"

"S-shut up," Takeshi groaned. If he opened his eyes, he knew he'd be able to see his dim reflection in the polished wood of the desk. "Just--more, Kentarou--ha-harder--"

"Ooh," Kentarou whispered, "Takepon's taking charge~~"

Takeshi wanted to tell him to shut up and get on with it, but he swallowed the words when Kentarou did, finally moving past the teasing slow thrusts and maddeningly little jolts, and thrusting like he meant it. He found the perfect angle--Takeshi's shaky shout undoubtedly helped with that--and applied himself with all the dedication he showed to any serious job.

Takeshi wouldn't be able to look at the desk the same way ever again.


	4. Doumeki/Watanuki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watanuki tries to persuade Doumeki to get married and have a family. Doumeki does not see it as an issue that needs addressing. Talk of genderswap and semi-serious discussion of mpreg, don't know how that happened.

"You should have children," Watanuki said one night. It wasn't a non-sequiter, as perhaps Doumeki thought; it was just that Doumeki came to the shop all the time, and Watanuki knew that outside life was passing, day into night, winter into summer, death into life.

And lives are so short.

Doumeki looked at him. He had an entire inventory of subtle changes in expression, but Watanuki was still far from reading all of them--and that was a bitter thing to admit, even to himself. This was an unreadable look, an eyebrow quirked and Doumeki's lips pinched in a way that was almost angry, but not quite.

"No," he said, and tossed back his glass of sake like it was water.

"Why not?" Watanuki leaned against one of the wooden pillars of the veranda and ticked the reasons off on his fingers. "You have a stable job, you're well-educated, you're reasonably attractive and I know you're still getting a half-kilo of chocolates every Valentines day, so there's no lack of feminine admirers. You've got the temple and an apartment. You could afford to support a wife and children." He picked up his sake and sipped it. "So why don't you?"

Doumeki said nothing for a long time. Watanuki almost missed the days when he himself was a great deal less patient, when he would have shouted and yelled at Doumeki to speak. Now he had nothing but time.

"I don't want children with someone I won't love," he said at last, and drained his glass in another long gulp.

Watanuki blinked at him. "That's why you go out on dates," he said, and his voice--against his will--skittered on the sharp edge of sarcasm. "You can't expect to love someone at first sight, you know. Have your mother set up an omiai, or Obaasan, if your mother is too busy."

Doumeki gave him a look, and Watanuki finally recognized it--it was the look Doumeki wore when Watanuki had made him angry.

"I'm already in love with someone," Doumeki said, and his normally flat voice had gained an edge of irritation. "Having kids with them is impossible. So I don't want kids."

Watanuki was lost for only a moment in a swath of puzzlement, before it all clicked.

"Loving me shouldn't stop you from having a family, Doumeki," he said softly. Doumeki just shook his head and drained his cup one last time.

"I'm going to bed," he said. "Don't stay up too late."

***

Watanuki thought about kicking Doumeki out, about barring him from the shop until he understood that life was passing and he couldn't just sit in the shop with Watanuki until he grew old. It would take a long time for Yuuko to come back; Watanuki knew that. He would see her again, someday.

Doumeki wouldn't.

He tried to convince Doumeki again the next night, and then a few nights after that; and each time Doumeki met his arguments with flat refusal and a mounting anger that seethed under his stoic face.

Watanuki relented for a few nights after that. He brooded and smoked, and the twins crept up to him after Doumeki had gone to sleep, and Mokona perched on an arm of the divan and watched him.

He had thought he might bring the topic up in different situations--sex, maybe. Doumeki wasn't usually terribly logical then. He had thought about it, and done a simple divination.

The result was enough to set that option firmly on the list of things that wouldn't work.

So Watanuki smoked and brooded again. If Doumeki noticed, he didn't say anything; he brought groceries and demanded out-of-season dishes and slowly the anger bled out of him. Watanuki noticed as if from far away.

At last he settled down to do some research.

***

Doumeki sat down on the veranda a few nights later, with a bottle of sake, shallow drinking cups, and a box of high-quality pastries from a shop Watanuki used to love. He set down his offerings and poured Watanuki some sake.

It was good, burning sweetly down Watanuki's throat. The pastries were as phenomenal as he remembered--half the reason he had gone to that shop was to taste their creations, and then set himself to recreating them. He missed, suddenly and sharply and not for the first time, the simple singular ability to browse the aisles of a shop he didn't own, one stocked with fourteen kinds of flour, several dozen spices, and more produce than he could count in one glance.

"Thank you," he said. Doumeki just nodded silently, and they watched the moon for a long quiet while.

"If you could have children with me, would you?" Watanuki asked, snapping the silence like a dry twig. Doumeki huffed.

"I would," he said. He sounded surprised. "I know it's impossible, but if I could...yes." He slid closer to Watanuki, until their shoulders touched.

"Tell me," he said, "why you're so set on this."

Watanuki tapped the ash out of his pipe. "You know I'll outlive you," he said.

"Yeah."

"I--I suppose--I just don't want to deprive you of what you ought to have." He sucked hard on the end of his pipe. The smoke stung his lungs, rich, familiar. "Life is so short, Doumeki. If you wait too long, you won't be able to raise any children."

Doumeki was quiet a long moment. "If I could have a child with you," he said, "I would."

Watanuki met his eyes. He felt very far away. "There are ways," he said. "But each one has a price."

Doumeki tilted his head. "Am I a customer? Or are you not allowed to fulfill your own wishes?"

Watanuki shrugged. "That depends on you," he said. He tapped the box of pastries with one finger. "This is enough to buy you the knowledge of the different methods, and their prices. Do you still want to know?"

Doumeki was silent for a long while. Watanuki finished his pipe, refilled it with fresh tobacco, and watched the moon lazily cross the sky.

"I want to know."

Doumeki's eyes were bright, in the light of the full moon and the golden yellow light from inside the shop. Watanuki sat back against a pillar.

"The first method isn't one I recommend," he said. "It would be a spell that would allow you to conceive a child as you are right now--with my assistance. But men aren't designed to carry a child, and it's very dangerous." He blew out a ring of smoke and felt his chest tighten. "You could die well before the child would be born--and then it would have to be cut out of you."

Doumeki's expression had fallen into one Watanuki almost dreaded--determined, immovable.

"And the price?"

Ash fell to the ground like snow. "Your life, potentially. Time--you wouldn't be able to live in the outside world while gestating a child. Isolation from family, friends, all your peers. Possibly losing your job, from absence and inability to do it. Once the child is born, if you survive, you would probably face a long and difficult recovery."

Doumeki didn't hesitate--he filed away that information and fired another question.

"The other methods?"

Watanuki felt the currents of space and time wrap more fully around him. It nearly made his throat close up. "For the second method, you'd need a woman," he said. "You and I would contribute the genetic material, but a woman would have to be the surrogate mother. The price there is that I wouldn't see the child until after you died, if at all--because it brings a third person into this."

"Are there any other ways?"

Watanuki almost choked on an unexpected laugh. "None you'll like," he said. "One of us could change sex, temporarily, and that would be easiest. But it would require three years off your life, and possibly some memories."

Doumeki thought about it. "But you'd be able to see the kid?"

"Yes," Watanuki said. "But I wouldn't be able to be its mother." He chuckled, a hollow sound. "I may swan about in Yuuko's clothes, but a spell like that, cast on me as I am--it would deeply unbalance things. It would have to be you, and you'd have to seclude yourself for half the pregnancy, at least. And--the child would have to live with you. You might be able to bring it to see me, but I can't raise it here."

"Hm," Doumeki said, and he sat back, his eyes on the moon.

Watanuki sighed after a long silence. "It would be much easier to just arrange a marriage," he pointed out, in a soft voice. Doumeki grabbed his hand and looked him in the eye.

"Do you want a kid with me?"

Watanuki blinked. "I--if that's what you want--"

"No," Doumeki snapped. "If I wish for this, would it make you happy? I--" He paused, took a breath. "I want this," he said, lowly. "I never thought about it because I didn't think I could have it, but if you want--then yes. If you want a kid with me, then I'll do it. I don't mind being a woman for nine or ten months."

Watanuki almost wanted to protest. Find a decent wife, he wanted to say. Find someone normal to have children with. But he held his tongue, because he could see the wish fully formed, now; and even if it was selfish, even if he wasn't sure what sort of effect fathering children could have--

He wanted it.

"All right," he said. Doumeki slid closer than he had in weeks and straddled Watanuki's lap.

"This means you'll have to start calling me by my given name," he said, as he plucked the pipe out of Watanuki's hand. Watanuki slid his other hand up the back of Doumeki's loose shirt.

"All the time, hmmm?" he said, and that was--it was another tiny part of the price, pulling down some of the barriers he held around himself. A name, an intimacy, a bit more weight added to future grief.

"All the time," Shizuka said, and kissed his throat.

"I can live with that," Watanuki said.


	5. Saya/Tohru, highschool sweethearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I spell it Tohru. *shrug*

Saya had known from the first moment they met that she loved Tohru with all that she was. She had always been a sensible girl, never given to believe in things like love at first sight, but that was before she met Tohru, a new transfer student, the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen, and someone she loved so instantly and fiercely that her heart constricted and her breath cut short.

She wasn't sure, but it seemed Tohru had felt the same way. Within a few weeks they were holding hands, and within a month they were finding secluded places around the school to kiss and touch and explore.

Tohru liked it when Saya stroked her stomach--she made a soft, gutteral noise that felt like a ripple under Saya's hands. She liked everything that Saya did or said or was, and even the shadow that Tohru brought with her--the shadow that seemed so far away, and yet so enormous--that couldn't drive Saya away. Nothing would drive her away, not from this.

"Ah," she gasped. They had found a quiet, remote spot on the school grounds, and Tohru had given her a surprisingly wicked smile before tackling her into the soft square of grass. "Ah--oh, god--"

"Goddess, thank you," Tohru said against her thigh. She had hiked Saya's skirt up around her hips and had pulled her underwear away from her skin with swift shaking fingers. Saya moaned again, softly, her breath catching in her throat the way her hands caught in Tohru's hair--soft, and warm from the sun--

\--and there was only so much she could do to distract herself, didn't want to distract herself, Tohru's mouth and tongue were so warm, too warm, and oh, it felt--it felt--

Saya moaned again, silently, and she arched up as best she could. One hand gripped a handful of grass, and the other was buried in Tohru's hair. Tohru's hands were cupping her hips, the small of her back, urging her up and holding her close--

A small, breathy sigh cut the air, and Saya trembled back down to earth. Tohru hauled herself up, her mouth wet and stretched in a wide smile, her breasts heavy and warm against Saya's stomach.

Saya would do anything in the world for that smile.


	6. Watanuki/Doumeki/Spider Lady, except it's more like Doumeki/Spider Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Watanuki doesn't physically appear in this, sorry.

All my dubious consent warnings are for this chapter. If that is not your thing, if that is not something you want to deal with, feel free to skip out! <3 Take care of yourselves! 

 

 

The webs around his wrists and ankles were sticky and tacky against Shizuka's skin. He was in his shirt sleeves and bare feet, a level of vulnerability around a creature he had hoped would stay out of Watanuki's life.

The Jorogumou leaned over him, delicately balanced on her web, and traced a finger over his cheek. She was clad in fishnets and a teddy, and Shizuka found himself less than moved.

"You despise me," the Jorogumou said, reflectively. Shizuka couldn't shrug; the web held his arms and legs too snugly. He just tilted his head a little away from her fingers, and watched as she chuckled.

"You're paying for that shop keeper," she said. "One cute guy for another cute guy. Equivalent trade?"

"Willingness counts," Shizuka said coolly. The Jorogumou slid down the strands until she was close to him, breathing his breath, and rubbed one of her legs along his own. She was cool through the fabric of his trousers.

"But you don't like me," she said. She was trying for innocent and coy, but Shizuka merely blinked at her. She chuckled again and sliced through the buttons of his shirt with a long, blood red nail, the boldest color he'd seen since stepping into her grey world.

"He's watching us," she murmured. "Through your eye, isn't he?"

Shizuka held her gaze and his silence.

"You're being a poor playmate," she murmured.

"Sorry," he said blandly.

She hitched herself up and wrapped both her legs around his waist. Shizuka pulled a deep breath into his lungs, slowly, and closed his eyes.

"Ah, ah," she said. "He has to watch, Archer. That's part of the deal." She rocked her hips and slid her hands over his chest. "Does he do this to you? Does he straddle you and tie you to the bed and ride you?"

Shizuka bit his lip and kept his eyes open. She brushed the corner of his mouth with her fingers.

"Self-sacrifice only goes so far, you know," she said. "Do you open your mouth for him? Does he whimper when you're in him?"

Shizuka took a deep breath. "Who says I top?" he asked, and she smiled at him.

"Now you're getting it," she said, and her hand moved down to his belt. "Tell me what he does to you, Archer."

"You're trying to make him jealous," he said, and in an instant her face became cold, and her nails pressed against his navel began to dig in.

"You're the one who offered himself up," she said. "I could take your eye--the one you share with him, the one he lost years ago for your folly. Then you'd both be blind in one eye, and his sacrifice would have been for nothing." There was a snick sound, and the familiar pressure of his belt disappeared. The metal buckle rang once as it hit the floor far below.

"You could," Shizuka said. "That wouldn't make this any less true."

She traced one finger across his throat, her long, knife-like nail pressed to his skin. "I could bleed you," she said. "Blood, sex, souls, hearts--that's the currency your lover trades in, Archer. Never think his pretty white hands are clean of it." She tugged his trousers away with a few quick movements. "You yourself aren't clean of them. Purer than most, I'll give you that, but you're here, trading sex for him, because he's chained himself to one tiny pocket of the universe. He stays young while you grow older. Soon you'll be thirty. Then you'll be forty." She stroked the skin of his hip, the soft flesh of his abdomen, the tender skin over his half-hard penis. "You'll be fifty, and he'll be the same age, see things you never will, be forever just under his full maturity, and in the meantime you're growing older and weaker."

Shizuka didn't try to pretend that some of her words were lies. But, he reminded himself, she was not an oracle; she was not divining the future.

"If that's the only way to stay with him," he said.

"Fool," she spat, and slid on top of him easily. "The both of you are fools."

Shizuka shivered in the chill air. Even her body, wrapped around him, was cool. "I can handle being a fool," he said. Her expression never changed, but something in her eyes--something old--became even colder. She began a jerky rhythm, and Shizuka followed along as best he could.

Willingness did count, after all.

Her cool, distant expression never altered, and Shizuka blinked only when he had to in this impromptu battle of wills. Something else was at stake here, something she hadn't bargained with Watanuki for--if she had, his friend would have told him.

Watanuki was growing more like Yuuko every day--but Yuuko had never sent them into an impossibly dangerous situation without some help, and Watanuki had a kinder heart than she.

"If you want something, you have to say so," he said at last. She frowned at him, disdainfully.

"What I want, your shopkeeper wouldn't give," she said, and left bruises on his ribs. "But part of my payment will be the jealousy that will fester when he sees my marks on you."

Shizuka could think of only one response to that, but he kept silent. She would not take well to the thought that Watanuki would feel as much guilt and responsibility as jealousy; she would not like the thought that Shizuka would spend some time apologizing and the rest of the time accepting apologies, as much as he and Watanuki ever exchanged them, anyway.

Willingness counted.

Honesty and faithfulness counted even more, and Shizuka had no illusions that Watanuki wouldn't know his sacrifice for what it was.


End file.
